Too Wrong
by Kittaygal42
Summary: Who's the one to defeat Voldie? A broken person ready to cease to exist? The perfect weapon, in their eyes. Warnings for a lot of dark themes during the beginning, in progress, D/H slash possibly later, but please read! It'll give me inspiration to write more.
1. New surroundings

My HP/light!Draco fic! OotP! Self-injury! Depression! Rating's for a reason. I'd like to ignore a little plot aswell!

Harry Potter was a shy, quiet boy who tried his best to avoid others. He never really wanted to bother getting people to know him. Voldmort never got to the prophecy despite his trials. All he had were inferences of small pieces of information he'd gathered. The dark lord wasn't entirely sure if it referred to Longbottom or Potter, so, both young boys had the same tragic childhood. Only Dumbledore knew Harry to be the true chosen one, and since the article had been under tight lockdown since it's arrival, all of the other wizards were pretty much unaware of the prophecy. So, for their teen years, both boys were constantly harrassed by Voldemort.

Harry finished up his classes for the second time this week sans the golden trio, opting for his lone golden-boy self, ascribed to the fact that he simply couldn't handle it so much. Swinging his tired body onto the golden couch, he realized he never belonged there. Well, he could see where the idea came from, but, he knew there was a longing to be somewhere else.

Harry Potter was relatively unknown in the wizarding world. He had always been shy and even went out of his way to avoid others. He was good at hiding. That, however had been due to a very serious circumstance no one would have ever guessed The Harry Potter would have to live through. In fact, most people had assumed he was well raised, or, even arrogant. It was becoming apparent, in Harry's mind, that a lot of people are ignorant, yet still want to butt in to every situation to chip in their little splinters of information. Humans. He rolled his eyes at the irony.

He hated Ron, probably not as much as he hated Harry, but Hermione had always been good to him, as Hermione was at least empathetic. Though, since they've been in a relationship since fourth year, now fifth, Hermione was reluctant to reach out to Harry. She had Ron, It was like once Ron was done they were both just up and away with themselves.

To be frank, that was the least of his worries. He didn't much care for their absence, he discovered, as it'd always been a chore anyway to be around them, they always gave him the feeling that he needed something to prove, as a leader of some sort, and once they got together and he was left in the dark, that idea completely vanished. It wasn't even awkward that they weren't friends and they share a room. That's how much everyone just... stopped.

Stopped caring. It was as if everyone had stopped, not only peers, but Snape barely graced him with a sneer, if any eye contact at all. Even his most favoured teachers never acknowledged him as much. And, that was just what was happening at Hogwarts around him. His mind was an unceasing battle of waves, thoughts crashing in his sea of despair, of Sirius, Cedric, and anyone else that will have their lives come to a halt... all his fault.

All around the clock, Harry was plagued with so much fear and depression, his mind had formed an almost apathetic view. He didn't really care, anymore. He couldn't escape his demons even in the realm of comatose, in fact, his nighmares had always been abnormal because of dear, sweet Voldie, but he couldn't even close his eyes without watching Sirius fall into _that veil_... over, and over, and over. All again. His insomnia was as bad as it was during the summer, which he also couldn't bring himself to care about. As he felt there may be more 'urgent' matters, It slipped into his ocean like everything did.

Harry was sitting in the Slytherin common room, contemplating everything in between, when he sighed outloud, snapping himself out of drowning in his grief. He walked slowly upstairs to his dorm, the dormmates were just starting dinner granted the time.

He plunged his limp body into his bed. He turned over tiredly and stared at the ceiling for a moment. He brought his arm and rested it above his eyes, nearly immersing himself into the comfy mattress, that would've been a blessing, unfortunately Harry was only able to sleep when exhausted, a bad, learned, habit. He didn't really know what to feel, a lot of the time now, and constantly found himself only able to describe the feeling as numb. He sighed, yet another thing he found himself constantly doing, and fumbled lazily to the end of his bed, reaching over the edge for his trusty, glistening, silver potion's knife from his trunk.

Harry- yes- Potter, started to mutilate his own skin at the ripe age of eleven. His familial circumstances were quite out of hand, and the whole business with a "Freak School" only made it much, much worse for himself. The beatings for all of the letters were almost as bad as when he was seven years old and accidentally did magic. Now, that was quite a scene. When aunt Petunia noticed he'd finished weeding the garden way too early, she'd had a fit. Of course Vernon had been just getting home and had caught wind of the event. He saw his uncle a shade he never thought a human face could turn.

Shaking out of the memories, a headache was pinching at the front of his head. His body was aching for release, and without hesitation he flipped the decorative knife open. He lifted his robe to the elbow so he had access to the flesh beneath. He made a few little lines around the old pink and white scars. His routine was the only thing that made sense to him, though, he knew it was completely insane. It's not like he had to tell anyone, and, the Dursley's didn't care when his scars were exposed hen he had to wear Dudley's worn out muggle shirts. Though, they could sum it up to their treatment, which made sense. Vernon did change it up a lot with his abuse. Making some deeper cuts at the top of his forearm, he relaxed into the sensation. He figured Ron would be finished dinner soon, so, he cleaned up and promptly waited.

He heard laughing nearing the dorm room, and, suddenly it halted into a whispered voice, which sounded like Ron. All of a sudden, the room filled with light from the hallway, as Ron stood in the frame. He'd been ignoring him along with the rest of his mates, and, it looked like Ron had something to say, finally. He never thought of asking them about it, since it was almost welcomed, but, he did kind of want an explaination.

"Hey." Harry said, quietly. Ron looked towards him on his bed, with a mix of emotions.

"Harry... I think it's gone on long enough... I mean, you've been so depressed over his death and all, can't you like, get over it, mate? Just cause you know you led him to his death... doesn't mean you gotta make everyone else feel bad."

Ron said, with a hint of anger. Harry didn't even bother to be offended. Of course Ron wouldn't understand, nor would he have the words capable of reaching him. He also had a feeling, that, if he were to argue this out, it'd end up a lot worse than he wanted. He could just tell. So, he simply stood up. And brushed past a gaping redhead, and walked past a group of people he barely knew anymore, just as much as they didn't know him.

Harry had requested to be resorted, by the vehemenance of the hat, Dumbledore was swayed. Or, rather, despite losing his golden boy to another house, he didn't want to lose his secret weapon all together. He had a war to win. He'd asked because of the first confrentation between himself and his ex-redhead. He didn't want to encourage more thought on that subject. The past was in the past, and, by now he's learned there's a time and place for thinking. Thankfully, Dumbledore could book it within two days, so on the third, he was sorted into Slytherin privately. And that night, in his new dorm, he knew he was safer emotionally.

And, the hat had assured him that Slytherins have a rule. They're a family. They only treat people within their house kindly, though, he did feel rather jealous. That they had this pact, and, it gives them freedom to hate the people they hate. Non-Slytherins. And, he'd experienced it first hand. Though, he knew it would now play to his advantage. Which, he never expected.

"You killed him! Just like Cedric!"

Harry awoke in a thick icy sweat, panting, his widened eyes relaxed slightly and he caught his breath. Lying down, He thought about how thankful he was to be a non-vocal sleeper. Ever since Ron's little speech he'd been having the same nightmare, predominantly. Though Ron's face was always as red as his hair and he looked ridiculous. At least he found the silver-lining.

It had been the second day in Slytherin dorms. Waking up earlier than the unfamiliar dormmates, Harry grabbed a towel, his robe, and some clothes. Harry slipped off his silky bed and his feet hit the dungeon ground. He tip-toed on the uncomfortably cold stone ground, towards the inviting looking shower. After warming up his bones, he thought it best to prepare himself for the day's classes.

Harry thought it'd be quite a shock for Draco Malfoy to know he was resorted into his house. Though, they'd not much spoken since the first fight Ron and Draco had ever had, aside from a few glares and remarks. Harry was quite sure that Draco would remember him as the aggressive red-head's Gryffindork friend. Oh well. He _was_ Slytherin now.

Harry got dressed with his robes and had his bag in his hand by the time the rest of his dormmates had even blinked the blear out of their eyes. He knew everyone had been informed about the arrival, but everything was making him annoyingly anxious and he didn't really want to bother with anything. The social aspect breakfast brought looked unappealing, so, he thought it best to get there earlier as well. He walked past all of the dorms with swiftness, his fingers twitching along the way in nerve. He heard a dormitory door opening behind him. His posture sharpened further. Wasn't Draco always early to beakfast? His heart sounded and his previous pace suddenly quickened, now in motion. Bolting down the stairs into the common room, he nearly rammed straight into the door.

Pulling open the Slytherin doorway with immediacy, he launched himself into the corridor. He caught his breath and nervously checked around him. As he was worried that someone may be curious as to who the "new student" was in Slytherin, he didn't want to give anyone a chance to find out currently. So, he opted for the less preferable route to the Great hall. He thought that if he were to jog half of the way, he'd get the hottest scramble. Scramble-focused, he managed to realize he's jogged all the way to the changing stairs . The Great hall was to the left, follow the corridor, and turn right to the entrance. So, after waiting for the correct set of steps, he promptly walked up and over. The scent of everything hit him and his stomach finally growled in request. The scent of butter melting on the various breads and biscuits wafted over to him.


	2. A mystery: to be continued

Chapter 2! Don't like, I'd appreciate if you don't read :-). On with the show.

He approached the set of grand doors, the tempting miasma as his guide. The one door was left open and he cautiously stepped into the dining hall. Nobody besides a few Ravenclaws were there with their books out, typical, he thought to himself.

Though his heart was still stuttering with the anxiety that never seemed to leave, and he felt a cold sweat trickle down his back, he managed to walk to his new table nonchalantly. He sat down and his stomach did a few flips in anticipation, but he readied his plate with buttered toast anyway. Grabbing a couple scones and slices of pear, he took a shaky sip of his pumpkin juice. He was growing impatient to see who'd walk through the door first.

Just as he'd noticed such, some Hufflepuff's started trailing in, at least, most of them were. After the few third years passed the frame of the doorway he saw the dreaded Crabbe and Goyle rubbing at their eyes sleepily. Next was Pansy, Blaise, and he didn't need to guess whose blonde hair was peeking out behind the other boy's. They all menacingly strode over to Harry, and he'd set down his juice long ago. He didn't think he'd be able to get anything down anymore. The bodyguards were oblivious to the new student, but, he knew he saw a glance or two from the rest. It seemed as though once they made their arrival, everyone else was ready for breakfast. As people started to fill the room, the five sat down in their usual spots at the Slytherin table. Harry was almost shaking, never daring to look over.

He was pretty sure he heard a few whispers of "New student" Or whatnot from the group, but he just lowered his head and picked at his toast. There were about fifteen minutes before he'd have to head to history of magic, with the Gryffindors,and he could keep up his introversion until then. He was good at making himself difficult to notice, and, that may have to do with his magic, though, it was a god send for all he cared. Ten minutes trickled by, and he was sure Ron had noticed his position, if his impression of a fish out of water was anything to go by. It gave him a cheap satisfaction and he sent but a smirk over to his ex-friend's table. That just made Ron angry and his face was as red as his hair as Hermione tried to calm him down.

 _Crap._ He felt eyes on him, now, from the table he was in. He went back to his plate and ate as though his food were mush. His anxiety made it difficult to be calm and stay in the shadows so to speak, but, he would still try his best to not meet the squinting glares he was recieving.

"Oi! You, there!" A girl squeaked as he felt a little nudge in his left shoulder. He knew he was to be met with Pansy Parkinson's face when he looked up, so, he took a sip from his pumpkin juice first to prep.

"Yes?" He kind of croaked as he looked at the girl in question. She was as boisterous as ever and he knew that this was going to be his single most dreaded scenario. She had a neutral expression, actually, they all did most always, unless it was a sneer he thought.

"Well, what's your name? Are you in our year?" She gestured to the group. Harry only sighed, as he had wanted to stay a secret, well, for as long as he could manage. Now, they were curious. He thought he'd done a good enough job at staying quiet, though, he did just slip up a bit. Now, his identity was to be exposed to the most cunning kids in Hogwarts.

"My name is Harry. I'm in fifth year, yes." He made it out as simply as he could, and turned back to his plate and started chewing. He'd have to make some kind of a dent before he had to leave in three minutes.

"You're that kid! From Gryffindork." Draco said. He nearly rolled his eyes. "That kid who was with that poor ginger Weasle." He tightened his fist at that, Ron had always been self-concious about his wealth. People need to judge on character, not status. Though he did expect this sort of thing.

"Well, I'm not in _Gryffindork_ now, am I?" He almost mocked. He stood up at that, so that he'd get a good spot in Professor Binn's class. "I got re-sorted yesterday." He concluded with an explaination. That went rather smoothly, he thought. Harry managed to get out of the Great Hall without another word.

He arrived at the large classroom and walked up a few stairs and took a spot in the right column in the middle row. Soon, kids started filing in, Draco and his friends being first of the many. It looked like the Slytherins were on the right and the Gryffindors divided to the left. The ghost professor sat himself in the center of it at the front. A stack of papers on the desk in front of him. He searched the crowd for a second before lighting up at some student's face.

"Ahh, Miss Granger! Would you mind passing these papers out to the class?" He asked the girl who promptly stood and walked towards the front, before waving her wand in a sort of complex manner and whispering a small chain of spells to distribute the papers. She was usually the person to hand out the papers, unless the teacher was able, as she'd obviously practiced.

"Well done! That looks like a nice five points for Gryffindor!" The ghost said cheerily. The Slytherins were mannered enough not to whine but a few eyes were rolled at the idiotic teacher. The Gryffindors clapped approvingly with Ron going overboard, Hermione was red with embarrassment.

"Now, class." He looked at all the students. "We're starting off your fifth year with a little bit of an assignment- not to worry, kids! We're going to be researching a familiar face." He said with pure joy. "Professor Snape will be proud! Since, you've discussed this man throughout potions class all year! He invented many potions..." The professor rambled all about the discoveries and impact he'd had in the making of potions. Apparently, the man he was talking about created polyjuice, so, Harry knew it would be a piece of cake since they really did discuss Egor Hoffsman in potion's class a lot.

"This man revolutionized medicine! Alright, So I'll expect a two page essay due by Wednesday and the instructions are on the parchment Miss Granger kindly passed around. You may all get started on your work! The textbooks are... where are they again?" The ghost scratched through his chin and started looking for the books.

"It seems I'l have to talk to . I'll be back, class, please behave!" He called out behind him as he walked through the door. Harry mentally sighed. What a boring class to start Monday off. He read the sheet and pulled out his parchment and re-inking quill so he could get started on the work.

He managed to get half a page done quite well in his opinion by the time Binns came back with the right books. "Alright, class. My, my, you've been working so hard! So, on the cart I've wheeled in we have two text books. The one you need for this assignment is called Evolution of Potionry Edition IV. The other, he must've accidentally taken it over on the cart, is your text book for this course. I'll assign those later. For now, you all may take one of the books for the assignment and put it back where you found it at the end of class." He explained.

"Right row may now take their books!" He invited. The right side, or, Slytherins headed over to get the book they needed to learn about one of the most famous men in the history of magic. In a few minutes, the Slytherins were all sat back down again, including Harry with his Evolution of Potionry book. Flipping to the article about Egor, he managed to get a whole page done on the man and his inventions before his first period class ended. As the bell rung he packed up his bag and was on his way to his potion's class with the Hufflepuff's.

They arrived to potions, and, Snape wasn't surprised that Harry was there. He did see him at breakfast, but he thought maybe Dumbledore mentioned the switch since it was rare at Hogwarts. Today in class, they were supposed to create and invigeration draught which should be left overnight in a cool dry place. This made Harry nervous, as it didn't look like he had a partner, but Snape started pairing up regardless. He'd been paired with draco only once in potions and they barely talked but they got through it seemlessly and very akwardly. And, since the professor was pairing Blaise with Pansy, he didn't have many more people to be paired with besides...

"Draco, Potter." Snape drawled and moved onto the Hufflepuff's. His heart was pounding as it usually did when it had to do with Draco. He never knew what to expect, really. The blonde moved to get up and started to push his desk towards Harry's. He shook himself out of his revery and got up quickly to help push his towards Draco's.

"Relax, Potter. You look like you've seen a ghost." Draco laughed. Harry tried to scowl but it looked more like a pout. So, he didn't comment and went to grab a cauldron. Draco followed and gathered the ingredients.

"...Mince mint, fairy wings... 1/2 cup dragonfly juice..." Harry mumbled to himself while draco emptied the vile of fly acid into the cauldron. "Alright. So, I chop, you stir and add ingredients? Like last time?" Harry suggested. Draco nodded almost happily. Harry himself was quite proud with his ability to mince and dice and such. Harry had already started on the mint so he got back to chopping with his potion's knife.

"That's a really nice knife you have." Draco took a look at it out of the corner of his eyes. The handle was jeweled eloquently and engraved with something. The silver blade looked polished. Someone taught him how to take care of nice wares properly. Draco noticed that Harry's grip tightened around the handle and he furrowed his brows momentarily.

"Thanks." Harry said softly. "It was a gift from someone special." The boy finished sadly. Draco simply watched as Harry continued to chop. He'd heard about the Cedric incident and about the other boy's godfather. It wasn't fair that both that Longbottom kid and him had to have so much happen to him because of the Dark lord. Many people thought his own family was dark and followed the dark lord, but, the man was certainly a sadist.

He remembers when he was nine and his father came home from being tortured with the crutatious curse. His father had been forced into taking the mark and the whole situation was complicated and scary for him. His father had been bedridden for almost a week and had to take potions daily, and yet, Potter himself had been tortured with it by the very same dark wizard and was in school the next day. He truthfully used to kind of be obsessed with the boy. Or, at least gave him a lot of thought when he'd heard of all the things going down.

And, well, he was attracted to him. He _had_ a small thing for Blaise when he was younger, but, his father had tried setting him up with the Parkinson's and he just wasn't interested in his friends like that, he realized. He was pretty sure he was bisexual, but he thought it would be so weird with a girl. So, he's a closet gay. He'd never tell his family, and he denied it to himself, so he'd figure out things later. Purebloods were iffy with that topic usually.

After they added the flaked fairy wings, they had to add a little bit of unicorn horn powder and place the cauldron on a shelf in the cellar. They'd worked smoothly and quietly and got it done faster than the rest. Especially faster than the Hufflepuff's. So, they seperated the desks and sat so they could wait for the bell to lunch.


	3. A mystery: unsolved

Chapter 3! Sorry if the last chapter wasn't too interesting, I've been meaning to put more of Harry's stances into the story. Also, Fanfiction's glitching a bit I've noticed so sorry for any errors due to that, and, sorry for any errors due to me!

"Class dismissed." Snape announced with a usual frown. Harry put his book and quill in his book bag and slung it on his shoulder, and, Draco waited for him. Along with his other pals. He was hoping he'd be able to sneak out after, but, it wasn't in his fate he supposed. Certainly he didn't look forward to the small talk, but, they'd resigned him to it.

"We've dvination and DADA after the break. Wonder who the new professor is." Draco commented casually as they walked through the door into the hallway. Harry kept to himself, lost in his thankfully subdued, though, depressing thoughts. Before he'd been re-sorted, he knew that the dark lord was a very. . . persuasive man. If only through cruel means. So, he knew that even if some Slytherins were affiliated with the dark lord, most of the time, they were forced to be in their positions. Not that he was worried about being kidnapped by the Slytherin students, anyhow. He welcomed death, even if he was executed by the very evil man who'd killed his parents. The world was sick. But, he had expectations placed on him that he was the one and only saviour. Go figure.

"Hopefully we'll have somebody worthwhile. My dad's getting sick of having to catch me up in my magical studies." Pansy said after a pause. They'd gotten halfway to the Great Hall, and the faint aroma of garlic-beef something may have been in the air. Harry wasn't too hungry but some pumpkin juice might be good, he thought. His arms itched and it was an effort to stop himself from wildly scraping his scabs off.

"How's the essay going for you guys in history? I've got half a page." Crabbe spoke up. "I'm sure we're all gonna ace it. We've talked about him all year." Draco pitched in "We can go to the library after defense and get it done early." The blonde concluded. They were turning the corner nearing the hall.

"Woah, Harry! Is that blood on your hand?" Pansy remarked. Harry froze as they all turned and looked at him, and quickly decided the best route of action. He gathered every ounce of Slytherin within himself and lied.

"Ah, must of been a bug bite." He replied, looking closely at the blood running down his hand as he squinted his eyes as if he'd been curious as to what kind of bite it was. "I think I can catch up, I'll run to the loo." He waved them off nonchalantly, turned, and walked in the opposite direction as calmly as he could muster. Turning the corner, his feelings burst and he went into panic overdrive. He practically bolted to whichever bathroom he could find near him.

Luckily there was a shortcut to a more private bathroom that some of the teachers used. Dumbledore had shown it to Harry himself. He arrived at the two stall men's room and nobody was occupying the stalls, so, he walked to the sink and pulled up his sleeve. One of his deeper wound's scab had halfway peeled off and looked a tiny bit infected. He wasn't the most informed of magical healing spells, yet, but a _scourgify_ was all it needed. He wanted to cry. His heart was racing and he was embarrassedly flushed. He ripped off the part of the torn scab and disposed of it so he could rinse the blood off.

The red turned to pink and clear in a matter of seconds. He took a paper towel and pressed it on his arm. Pinching the bridge of his nose after adjusting his glasses, he sighed. His arm was dry so he threw away the towel. His stomach growled and there were dark circles under his eyes. He really should sleep more, though, that wasn't on his mind. A concealment charm was a good idea. He didn't know any concealment spells, so he did it the only way he knew how; He imagined smooth skin covering his problem areas, a little pink bump on his left forearm, and influenced his magic to get to work. He didn't know that this practice was not only highly skillfull, but practiacally undetactable. Imagination was also said to come easily to only the best wizards.

He was ready to head back and the whole thing only took around 5 minutes. He walked back to the Great Hall so that he could get some lunch. Hopefully his "new pals", or so it seemed, wouldn't dote on his absense too much. He didn't really care, now, just a numbness. He'd passed the doors to the hall and went to the Slytherin table. They'd taken note, but Harry acted ignorant to the fact and poured out some pumpkin juice, and plated a roll with some roasted chicken and lettuce on it. He let his sleeves slide down without a care.

"who's looking forward to Professor Trelawney? They say a wine turns fine with age." Draco said, stoically. Goyle snickered and blaise had tears in his eyes. Draco looked at them with a mischevious grin. Harry simply sipped his juice, lost in thought. Draco's smile faltered on Harry for a second, but, one wouldn't notice. Harry managed to finish the sandwich and polish off his juice, and it looked like they were getting down to the dregs as well.

"We might as well start walking over to Trelawney. . . Lest the Gryffindors arrive first, it is right by the Gryffin-girl's dorm." Harry spoke as he threw his pack on his shoulder in preparation. They looked at him as he did so, and Draco replied.

"Why _did_ you be re-sorted, Harry?" Draco asked as if he'd been itching to.

He frowned for a moment, and answered. "The hat actually wanted to put me in here initially, but I'd made my first friends and I begged to be in Gryffindor, for them. It told me it hoped I'd find a place for myself one day, and, since then it'd been on my mind. The same friends told me that people in this house weren't kind. Since, that is all they'd seen from you. Now, those friends are dead. They're not the same people." He scratched his mop of hair and concluded, "I thought this would be a step in the right direction for me, or something." And he shrugged his shoulders. He felt drained emotionally.

"Well, that sums it quite well. I'd'n't meant to bring up any. . . bad memories" Draco finished sheepily.

Ironic. He only had bad memories.


	4. Warming up isn't always a choice

Please review if you'd like. Here's chapter 4, hope you enjoy :-) I will finish this story; It might be a long one, we'll see.

Luckily, the stroll to Trelawney's class was a breeze. They'd occasionally mumble about having to go see an old hag, and what kind of crazy magic they'd be learning, but, they'd reached her room before anyone else. So, they took a seat on the left hand side of the circular stair-like platform seating arrangement. Eventually, everone trickled in and Professor Trelawney came out of her office to sit down in front of the class and smile.

"Today, class . . ." She croaked slowly and paused as she looked at the students gathered around her. "We'll start off with our basic tessomancy. We've had trials in fourth year, so we're just going to go through the basics to see what you remember." She continued. "I believe it will jog your memory a bit." She nodded with a smile. Trelawney then passed out the mugs with the loose jasmine tea with a flick of her wand. "We're all familiar with auguamenti flagaration? Yes?" The Professor asked. It was the hot water incantation, they'd practiced it in charms since third year. They all nodded, except for maybe Neville. "Not only, class, is this a test of your divination skill and your improvement, but, let's see how advanced your control over your casting is."

The class got to their spellwork. It looked like the lot of them had weak streams anyway, since you have to not only produce, but heat water, it took a lot of magical energy. Harry had a large amount of boiling water streaming from his wand, but, he had very good precision so it didn't get everywhere and he only filled it as much as needed.

"Now, put your future into your cup with your magic. Let the secrets of your sould be revealed, as your fate is already in progress, students." Trelawney said ominously from her seat. They all cupped their mugs and focused.

"I'll start coming around the room to see your results." The Professor announced after a minute. She went around the room, asking the students what they interperated their scenes as.

"Mmhm, yes. I see . . . a figure eight . . . possibly an owl . . . Oh dear me, a skull! Ah, a fly . . . mhm." They could hear her mumble with the other students as she inspected the room. She drew closer to Harry and after a blonde girl and her squirrel, he was up.

"Ah, Harry. Let's see what we have." She said brightly.

"I've got what looks like a . . . uh cross, that's something like a rocky journey. Uh, a dove? Birds represent a deadly enemy, while doves connote peace. I have a little circle in the corner, that could be a sun- happiness." Harry finished.

"Very accurate, Mr. Potter! You've got a great memory for your symbology." The professor said brightly.

"Ah . . . Blaise . . . moon . . . Draco . . . Ah! Yes, quite, I agree. Oh, dear, that's a shame, but it looks like it will work out . . . Pansy . . ." Harry heard Trelawney tittering as she finished her sessions with the students. The Professor then took a seat at the front of the room finally, and spoke.

"Now I'll assign a little bit of work you may be able to finish during the class. A paragraph on the most impactful moment in divination history and what it means to you. Check the textbooks if you need a refresh." She assigned the class. They all got to work until the next period.

"I have to say, Trelawney is the most cryptic person I've known; she's trying to maker her assignments more psychological than they are. I wonder who the DADA teacher is." Draco commented mindlessly as they exited the class. Harry didn't have a good feeling about it. Then again, it's not like they'd had the best experience with their previous teachers. He just hoped they might learn something interesting, but it doesn't work that way. They were in the hall near the defence room, so the walk was short. They walked in unison to the defense against the dark arts room.

They reached the wooden door with the bat carved in the middle, nodded to one another, and entered the DADA classroom. When they looked around the medium-sized room, it was noticeable that the room had been renovated. The seating was different, and, most peculiarly, drab pink was the colour of the walls. There were even . . . pink pellucid drapes on the windows. It was certainly a downgrade, but it could be worse they supposed. Standing at the front of the room was a five-foot-something woman with brown hair, dressed in pink. She was organizing papers, seemingly unaware of the fact that they'd arrived. She then turned and flicked her wand at the chalk, spelling it to write on the board, and promptly sat down to further inspect her papers.

They chose a spot in the left corner, and watched the chalk move fluidly along the smooth surface of the blackboard. "PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE" it spelled out boldly at the top. "DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS-5TH YEAR" It finally got to finishing. The rest of the class slowly trickled in, and five minutes later, it was about full. The last few students arrived, and the teacher abruptly stopped writing with her pen, and placed it on the sheet she was writing on. She looked up at the class before her and smiled, with a little touch of grimace. Pointing to the board, she began her class.

"I'm to be regarded as Professor Umbridge as your instructor. As you know, we will be learning about Defense. Defense, against the dark arts. Arts we need protection from. I'll be teaching you all about the need-to-know kind of deal. Thus, it will be a lot of text work, class. Learning the tactics before you apply them is key! We`ll be going over some of the material you`ve done last year, now." The Professor introduced.

"So, we're all familiar with the tickling charm? Petrificus Totalus? Ah, well, open your books to page 144, so we can review our simple ways to daze our enemy." She instructed. The class was a bit confused at the request; Why were they bothering to go over facile work? They weren't complaining, though.

"So the assignment I have for you . . . Yes, three questions. Answer in proper paragraph form." Again, she flicked her wand and the chalk began to move by itself.

"1. In what scenario does one use (Pick a spell from pg. 11-15)

2\. How do you reflect a spell? Disarm a wizard?

3\. What is the best strategy to avoid conflict in general?"

The chalk finished writing.

"If you can grab your parchment and begin writing until the end of class, I'll leave you to it. Silently." The teacher then went into her office, leaving the class as promised to do their work.

"What a wierdo." Draco whispered to harry. They heard the sound of high heels come back into the room.

"Please, do try to be quiet, class." Umbridge said, stepping out of her office briefly and shutting the door. Draco somehow turned paler. Despite smirking to him, he was really worried that there was something off about her.

The class soon ended, and, they went to the common room to try and get some work in before dinner. They were all about the same in amount of work completed, and Harry had a fair amount done. They pulled out their 'history of magic' books and flipped to the page on Egor. Harry talked about the man's life after the summary. Hopefully he'd get that chunk out of the way and move on to the middle portion, he thought. He was ready to get it out of the way.


End file.
